


One to Ten

by dagas isa (dagas_isa)



Series: Good, Dirty Fun [15]
Category: Liar Game
Genre: Asexuality, Community: kink_bingo, Masturbation, Orgasm Denial, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-05
Updated: 2010-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 22:33:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dagas_isa/pseuds/dagas%20isa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He always climaxes on a ten, if he climaxes at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One to Ten

**Author's Note:**

> Done for Kink Bingo prompt: Orgasm Denial/Control

One.

He practices in the depth of night. That he's in a room provided by the corporation and that he's next door to Kanzaki Nao, whose light snores he hears through the wall that separates them, makes no difference. In fact, he has noticed that stress heightens the experience. Tonight does not appear to be an exception.

Two.

He started at 2:33 in the morning, after being awoken again from the nightmares. He has been good, not checking the clock to see how many minutes or hours have passed since he removed his cock, semi-hard, from his briefs and began to slowly work himself up to a plateau. He feels the pressure build. His balls tighten in anticipation of a climax that might, if Akiyama decides, happen around dawn.

Three.

Akiyama first learned the trick in high-school. He lasted for about half-an-hour after he reached the plateau the first time. Back then the climax had been amazing. For the first time, he thought he might have actually understood what the big deal about sex could be. It was, he hypothesized, more about the waiting, the anticipation, more about experiencing the need for release than the release itself.

Four.

Once he hits the plateau, it's easy enough to delay orgasm while remaining hard. He runs his fingers over the frenulum to keep up stimulation, and then when he reaches what appears to be the edge he pauses. He counts strokes, switches to his left-hand, until the frustration makes his erection almost fade.

Five.

When he masturbates, he thinks of many, many things, but the one thing that never seems to come up are images of other people, naked or sexual. He can think of numbers, of steam or water moving through pipes, even of his shopping list, perhaps how he might ask someone else on a date, but only from a logistical perspective. Tonight, he thinks of game plans too, the ways that tomorrow could go desperately wrong and how he might counter another's attack. The thoughts are tangential to his activity, neither encouraging nor delaying any reaction in him.

Six.

He practiced his skills in prison. The nightmares haunted him, and neither the suicide nor his actions afterward have left his thoughts for an extended period of time, and the enforced solitude--though a blessing in some ways--made for plenty of time to dwell. His objectives changed. No longer did his exercise become about anticipation and building the intensity of the eventual orgasm, and more about the concentration required to perpetuate the delay. If he thinks about not coming, he's not thinking about the nightmares.

Seven.

Sometimes, though, he does think of the nightmares, and all he sees behind his closed eyes is red. Those times, all he can do is stop the delay and just make coming as painful as possible, a horrible release that's less a relief and more a punishment for a lack of control. At least tonight, the nightmares pass in the whirl of scenes, no more vivid than any other.

Eight.

Akiyama counts his strokes. Every time the foreskin goes over the head of his cock, the number increases by one. _One through nine. Ten. One through nine. Twenty._ At a hundred, he marks the event in his memory and starts from one again. On a good night, he can flawlessly keep track well into the thousands, but on any night one thing remains constant. He always climaxes on a ten, if he climaxes at all.

Nine.

Dawn starts to filter through the window, turning his room from pitch black to a shade of illuminated gray. Through the wall, he hears Nao's snores stop and the soft rustling of sheets. When he hears a buzz accompanied by her deep breathing and then her sighs, he realizes that she's masturbating too, although not delaying her orgasm. Briefly, he wonders about making her experience that plateau, or perhaps coaxing her to come many times in a row. He lets that image digest with detached interest.

Ten.

In the end, orgasms are just another game to play and another challenge to conquer. Akiyama knows when he wins because it's the point in his ministrations when he no longer cares whether he comes or not. The room is fully light now, and Akiyama imagines that the other, less-pleasant game will resume soon enough. He gives in, and releases both his hold on his cock and his tight control. The climax feels like nothing, just like steam escaping from a vent. Akiyama takes a tissue and wipes away the stray liquid. Then he gets up, puts on his pants and shirt, ties his shoes and walks out in search of coffee.


End file.
